


If You Die, I'll be Second in Line

by alphvjensen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 15:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13684464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphvjensen/pseuds/alphvjensen
Summary: There were things that John did that Dean could understand why he did them. They were dire to survival when you grow up like they do. Dean didn’t always agree with the way that John taught them but he understood why they needed to be taught. That was just the way that it had to be done. Dean didn’t have to like it he just had to understand the reason why he did the things the way he did.That’s what John told him repeatedly.His father wasn’t there to be his friend, he was there to train him, to give him all the skills that were needed to survive, to keep his boys alive.





	If You Die, I'll be Second in Line

**Author's Note:**

> This story in no way reflects my opinions on John Winchester nor is this fic one to bash him. I do truly believe that John did the best that he could in the situation that he was in however I do believe that he did some very questionable things in the interest of protecting his sons and making them better, stronger, faster.

There were things that John did that Dean could understand why he did them. They were dire to survival when you grow up like they do. Dean didn’t always agree with the way that John taught them but he understood why they needed to be taught. That was just the way that it had to be done. Dean didn’t have to like it he just had to understand the reason why he did the things the way he did.

That’s what John told him repeatedly.

His father wasn’t there to be his friend, he was there to train him, to give him all the skills that were needed to survive, to keep his boys alive.

The monsters out there, they weren’t going to show mercy. They weren’t going to care that they were kids who were scared. They were going to bite and claw and chew their way through their bodies as they died begging for it to stop unless they did something to stop it.

So Dean understood. He did.

Running to the point that you’re throwing up your small lunch that you had and then running some more after that, okay it sucked but it made sense. Having to figure out how to pick a pair of handcuffs with a paperclip while you’re in the handcuffs, that made sense too. But there were some things, that no matter how much Dean tried to think about it and wrap his mind around why John trained them in that way, he never really understood. 

And there were lines that should have never been crossed and yet John passed right over them without so much a second glance. When John crossed over those lines, few as they were, Dean would never forgive him for it.

Treating Dean like a soldier, that was one thing. Dean wanted it, to make his dad proud, to avenge his mother but Sam, Sam was still a child.

He was still more or less still oblivious to the things that were out there in the world. The things that went bump in the night. The real danger of it all. He knew enough to know that Dad would disappear for days at a time and come stumbling back into the motel room in the ungodly hours of the morning, body torn up and in search of the dark amber that he seemed to worship.

He knew enough to know that you were safer with a gun than without. He knew enough to know that the stories of monsters that he learned in school were based in truth and that they still roamed the city streets and hills of the country.

He knew enough to know how to hold a shotgun and Dean made sure that he knew how to shoot the damn thing. But he was never allowed to go on a hunt. No matter how much he begged and cried and pleaded and bargained with Dean, he would never let him climb into the Impala and drive towards danger.

But John seemed to have other ideas. While he _was_ concerned with his son's safety, he couldn’t just let Sam sit back in the motel room eating food bought with money that they didn’t have. There would come the day where Sam had to start pulling his own weight. John did care about his son’s safety. He wasn’t about to stick a shotgun in his hands and throw him out in the middle of the woods and tell him that he better fend for himself. That he’ll be back in a few days and that if he was still alive by than then great. That would be cruel and John didn’t want to be cruel, he really didn’t.

It was just… if Sam never l _earned_ how to survive then he would never survive out there alone.

Dean knew about John’s plans. He knew what John was going to do to teach Sam how to survive out there. John had done it to him when he was much younger and he hated it. His stomach twisted with the thought of Sam being all alone and scared in the darkness, unable to move more than his feet and fingers.

Everything in Dean wanted to tell Sam what John was going to do. That when he woke in the morning that he wasn’t going to be in his bed. He would be more or less six feet under the earth and expected to crawl and dig his way out. However John had told Dean that he would regret telling Sam what was going to happen. Danger wouldn’t announce itself hours before it strikes. Sometimes you wake up in the hands of danger and you have to learn how to deal with it.

John had been gone for the entire day on the outskirts of town digging a hole that was big enough to fit Sam. And then he found a cardboard box that would also be big enough and waited for night to fall.

He wasn’t stupid though. He wasn’t just going to stick Sam in this box and let him suffocate. There would be a walkie-talkie in there with him and if Sam couldn’t take it, if he couldn’t dig himself out, then he would pull him back to the surface. And besides, Dean would be there and he knew that no matter what, Dean would make sure that Sam was alright.

Dean couldn’t get to sleep. No matter how much he tossed and turned, he kept waiting for John to wake him up, telling him to stuff Sam into the backseat of the car. That night at dinner, John had put a couple of crushed up sleeping pills into Sam’s drink. Just enough that it would knock him out and that he wouldn’t wake during transport. Dean’s stomach churned at the thought of just watching his brother take that...that poison without him knowing.

It went against everything that Dean knew, everything that he was trained.

He was told ever since he was four to watch out for Sammy. To protect him and here he was well aware of what was going to happen and he couldn’t do anything. He was just a witness, standing by watching this terrible scene take place in front of him.

They didn’t speak as John drove to where the hole was dug. Dean was in the front seat, eyes trained outside on the passing landscape. He refused to look at John, to talk to him. It felt too much like a betrayal.

Sam was laid out on the backseat, his hair that desperately needing to be cut in his eyes. Dean could see him in the reflection of the side mirror and it hurt to know that in a matter of a couple of hours that he would wake scared and terrified, unsure of where he was, buried under a ton of dirt.

Dean wouldn’t let John touch Sam as Dean picked him up out of the backseat and carried him over to where John had dug the hole only hours before. Dean tried not to think about how much it felt like he was burying Sam for good with his eyes closed like that and breathing so quiet that he was fearful that John had put too many pills in his drink.

After Dean laid him down in the box, he pulled out a note that he had written earlier, explaining what was happening, why it was happening and that if he couldn’t do this, if he was too scared or whatever the hell that it might be, all he needed to was say Poughkeepsie. Their code word that they came up with that one night when they had to drop everything and run. But here it meant for Dean to drop everything and help his baby brother get out of the grave that his father had dug.

Dean couldn’t watch as his dad threw shovel full after shovel full of dirt on top of the box that he was in. It just made a truth that he didn’t want to be true seem all too true. One day he would either be burying his brother or his brother would be burying him.

“How long do you think it is until he wakes up?” Dean asked, trying to keep his voice steady as his father walked toward him, shovel in hand. The mound of dirt behind screaming out at him.

“Shouldn’t be too much longer. I gave him half a pill.” And John could read the apprehension on Dean’s face, the uncertainty that he felt. He placed a heavy hand on Dean’s shoulder. “He’ll be alright. He’s a strong kid, Dean. You’ve trained him well.”

And Dean sighed. _Maybe I didn’t train him well enough. He’s down there in the ground, all alone. I’ve never told him what to do in that kinda of situation. I’ve taught him how to shoot a shotgun...sure. How to slip some handcuffs...of course. But how to dig himself out of the earth...he’s never covered that._

“It’s just...he’s just twelve. He hasn’t even been out on a hunt yet. I just think that maybe it’s a little too early.”

John didn’t say anything. There was nothing that was too be said. Dean was going to disagree with him, with what he was doing and there was nothing that he could say that would change Dean’s mind. And there was no voice of reason that Dean could say that would convince his father to dig Sam back up.

Every second that passed, Dean could feel his heart being squeezed and pulled into all different directions while he waited for his brother.

Finally, after what felt like eons, the walkie talkie that Dean had been clutching in his hands crackled with static and Sam’s voice came through a second later.

“Dean?” And Dean’s heart felt as if a vice clamped around it at the sound of Sam’s voice. He was terrified. More than terrified and Dean helped cause that fear.

“Don’t answer it.” John said, his voice gruff but Dean was satisfied to hear that John seemed affected by Sam’s voice. That hearing his own son sound as scared as Sam sounded hurt John in the same way that it hurt Dean. At least there was some humanity left in that blacken soul of his. “Let him figure it out on his own.”

A moment passed and all Dean wanted to do was talk Sam through this.

“Dean?” Sam asked again, this time a little less sure and even more scared. He could practically hear the tears in Sam’s voice. “Please… anyone.”

Dean turned towards his father, wishing that he could hide the fact that he was so close to crying from just listening to Sam but he couldn’t deny it. John had his jaw clenched shut and his eyes closed, turned towards the sky. “Don’t answer it, Dean.” John said again, a little quieter this time, a little more strained.

“I can’t, Dad.” Dean said through stiff breaths. “He’s scared.”

“You did it.” John tried to reason, knowing that it would only fall on deaf ears. “You didn’t have anyone to look out for you.”

Dean pursed his lips. “Doesn’t mean I was any less terrified. Dad, please, Sam… he’s not like me. He’s still…”

“He’s a hunter, Dean.”

“Dad…”

“I don’t want to hear anything else, Dean.” And that was it. “I’ll be in the car. Don’t help your brother unless you see him coming out of the ground.”

“You know I can’t do that.” Dean said as his father started walking towards the car. “If he starts crying, I’m going to dig him up and you can’t do anything about it. You hear me, you son of a bitch?” Dean wasn’t sure where this anger was coming from. Usually he just stood by and did what John wanted, never asked questions. He never disobeyed a direct order but the words were just flowing from his mouth and he couldn’t stop them. “You hear me? If he needs me, I’m going to help him.”

John didn’t even turn around, but his shoulders were slumped, making him look over than he actually was. “He’s never going to learn if you hold his hand all the time. Do what you feel you have to do but just know, you’re not always going to be around.” John sounded tired. He sounded like a man who returned from war but never returned from the battle front.

Dean stared at the dirt, stared at the spot where Sam was buried knowing what John was saying was true.

“Dean…” John’s voice froze Dean to the spot. There was honest to god remorse in his voice. “I do care about you boys. And you don’t have to like what I do but I do want you to know that you boys mean everything to me. I just… I just _need_ to make sure that the two of you survive.”

Dean didn’t say anything back but still he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that he could just hate his father. It would be so much easier if John didn’t care deep down but there was the undeniably truth that John did care. It was his fear that drove John to do things like this.

The moment that Dean heard the door to the Impala shut, he picked up the shovel and practically ran over to Sam.

“Hang on, Sammy.” Dean said into the walkie-talkie. “Just keep breathing for me, baby. I’m getting you out of there.”

Sam’s broken voice replied back, choked with tears. “Please hurry, Dean. Please.”

It was easier to remove all the dirt than it was to dig it originally. Dean was filthy by the time he got down to the box that Sam was in and the moment that he opened the lid, Sam latched onto Dean, not willing to let go. Sobs shook his small body. Repeatedly Sam mumbled Dean’s name into Dean’s shirt, his fist clutched around the flannel that Dean was wearing.

“It’s okay, Sammy.” Dean ran his hands through Sam’s hair, trying to sooth his baby brother. “It’s okay. I’m here. I promise that I won’t ever let him do something like that ever again.”

Sam had crawled into Dean’s lap, trying to get as close to Dean as he possibly could and Dean just opened his arms and allowed Sam to get as close as he wanted. It was the least that he could do. Slowly, Dean started rocking back and forth, humming gently.

“You’re safe now, Sammy.” Dean muttered into Sam’s hair. “Nothing is going to happen to you again.”

After some time, Sam pulled his head out of Dean’s chest and he grabbed Dean’s face, just holding it in between his hands much like he did when he was so much younger and made a vow that he was going to count each and every one of Dean’s freckles. Sam never did count them all and more freckles appeared.

“You’re safe, Sammy.” Dean whispered, needing to say it again so that Sam believed him.

“I know.” Sam mumbled back, still holding onto Dean’s face. “I know."

Neither one of them is sure who leaned in first or who kissed back first but it didn’t really matter anyway. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to them, kissing in a grave that their father had dug under the moonlight like they were the only two people left in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> if comments be the food of writing, comment on.


End file.
